Chapter Text
pipe dream
/ˈpīp ˌdrēm/
noun
plural noun: pipe dreams
”I love you.”
Dean couldn’t get the words out of his head, couldn’t push away the memory trying to worm its way to the front of his mind. A bloodstained white button-up, black ooze that held too much resemblance to the goo from the Leviathans, blackened cracks on pale skin, an old, abandoned barn. Every time he blinked, that was all he saw. His ears refused to register the sounds of the bunker around him. They seemed to be stuck in a loop of the past, hearing what Cas had thought would be his last words on repeat.
”I love all of you.”
His mind should’ve stopped by now, should’ve found something else to think about, something that didn’t make his chest feel like it was caving in. Dean rarely got trapped in his own head for this long, and usually driving helped, but this time, the bit he’d driven before handing the keys over to Sam had only made it worse.
”Thank you. Thank you.”
There was no way he’d be able to sleep tonight, not that he often could. Still, he couldn’t let himself get something stronger to drink than coffee, he’d been trying to stop doing that every time something went wrong, and he didn’t know what else to do to distract himself. He didn’t feel like researching or for once helping Sam to organize the books in the library, and he couldn’t exactly go to the training room to shoot since Sam and Mom were already in bed, probably asleep.
”Knowing you, it’s been the best part of my life.”
Dean sighed and pressed his hands to his face, dragging them back through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn’t he push the stupid fucking memory away?
”The things we’ve shared together-“
A voice cut through the loop of Dean’s thoughts, and it took him a second to focus on it enough to identify who had spoken: Cas. Cas, who was still alive, still here, and not just a voice in his head.
“Dean, what are you still doing up?”
Cas was leaning a little against the kitchen doorway, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt that Dean vaguely remembered giving him, when he looked up at him. He looked so damn human that Dean’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering with both awe and despair as he averted his gaze back to the coffee swirling in his mug.
“I could ask you the same thing, Cas.”
“I don’t sleep, I’m no longer capable of it.” Cas’s steps came closer to Dean and when he glanced up, he was sitting across from him.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Cas tilted his head to the side, the action hitting Dean like a punch to the gut, his earlier words coming back to him again, words he wanted so badly to mean something they didn’t. He’d almost lost the ability to ever see Cas do that again, to see Cas do anything, and the reminder hurt like hell. Dean gulped down half of his remaining coffee, ignoring the somewhat odd flavor it had due to it no longer being warm.
“I’m fine, Dean.”
He shook his head in disbelief, scoffing under his breath. “Cas, man, you almost died earlier, you don’t have to be ‘fine’.”
“I’m alive, Dean.”
“Cas…” Dean sighed, staring at him. Scarlet red, human-like blood. Black ooze. Words that sounded like a confession and a goodbye at once. Tear-filled eyes. Blackened, cracked skin. A muddied, dust-coated trenchcoat. He tightened his grip around his mug, squeezing his eyes shut against the images.
“Dean, what’s wrong?”
“You can’t keep… Cas, I can’t keep almost losing you. Especially when you say stuff like that before you-“ Dean broke off and shook his head, jaw clenched.
Cas blinked, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that him almost dying and what he’d said could’ve been what had Dean up at three in the morning after a tiring hunt. “I apologize… I didn’t—I’m sorry, Dean. If you would prefer, we could ignore that I ever said what I did, or I could make you forget, if you’d rather.”
“Damnit, Cas, no, I—That’s not what I—Fuck, I’m way worse at this then I thought I was…” Dean downed the rest of his coffee and leaned a little closer to Cas across the table, who was watching him with confused eyes, his head still tilted slightly. “I-I love you too, Cas. I don’t know if you meant it the same way, but—I do.”
For a long moment, Cas just stared at Dean, lips parted slightly in what Dean thought was surprise or maybe shock. Dean sighed, ready to get up and leave if Cas wanted him to, but before he could move, a smile broke out across Cas’s face. Dean’s breath hitched involuntarily at the sight of it; Cas so rarely smiled, especially this bright, and something in him wanted to keep it there forever. Jesus, when did he become such a sap?
“I meant it that way too; I love you.” Cas reached across the table, slowly, as if he thought Dean might move away, and placed his hand on his. Dean stared at their hands for a second, feeling heat rise up in his cheeks, before turning his hand over and interlacing their fingers. The heat in his face was unfamiliar, but for some reason, Dean didn’t really care.
“Good,” Dean squeezed Cas’s hand slightly, “good, okay. But, please, Cas, don’t die, not again. I can’t take it, I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t, Dean. I’m alive,” Cas squeezed his hand back, “and I plan to remain as such for the time being, I swear.”
“You better, because if you don’t, I swear I will drag your ass back to Earth and I’ll kill you again myself.” Dean meant it as a joke, but he knew there was no small amount of truth to it.
Cas smiled, blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and for a moment they both just stayed sitting there, content with the silence. Never before had Dean even really contemplated Cas feeling the same way, of this being possible. But still, simply sitting together, in the middle of the night, in the kitchen, felt so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. Breathing felt easier than it had in years, and for just a moment, Dean felt like he could forget about princes of hell, Kelly Kline, the British Men of Letters, and everything else that had been weighing down on his shoulders.
Dean yawned before he could stop himself, and Cas’s expression somehow softened further. He stood, dragging Dean up with him by their interlocked hands.
“You need to sleep, Dean.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Dean put his mug in the sink, knowing Sam would be mad if he left it out, and let Cas pull him down the hall towards his room. He collapsed onto his bed once he was inside, letting out a content sigh as he sunk into the mattress. As he tugged at the blankets crumpled at the end of the bed where he’d thrown them the morning before they left, Cas turned as if to leave, and Dean froze. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of being alone was somehow terrifying suddenly. “Stay? Please?”
Cas stopped and looked back at Dean, some emotion he couldn’t quite read in his eyes. “Alright.”
Somehow the bed that was really only meant for one person fit the two of them perfectly when Dean hesitantly curled up around Cas, who seemed to melt into him immediately. Dean stared down at Cas, at how at ease he looked. He’d only been there a few seconds, but he already looked asleep, even though Dean knew he wasn’t. His hair was soft against Dean’s forehead, softer than he’d thought it was, his lashes cast dim shadows on his cheeks, and his chest rose and fell slowly and evenly.
Something Dean hadn’t realized was pressing down on him lifted as he stared down at him and he sighed softly, letting his eyes fall shut. For the first time in over a day he didn’t fear what his mind would show him when he closed them and the rest of the tension in him finally bled out. The memories from the barn weren’t pushing at him, trying to force their way out. Cas was okay, he was here. Everything was okay.
Dean pressed his nose into Cas’s hair and let himself drift off to sleep with the reassurance that Cas wasn’t going anywhere. Things were good, really good, for maybe the first time in months, and Dean finally let himself just breathe and not worry for once in his life.